excited at the process of reading First Lines of the Practice of Physic than any medical student he’d ever seen, himself included.
“Thank you,” she said, before snuggling into the pillow with a sigh. “It will give me something to do while you’re gone.”
“Is it so very dull, then?”
One corner of her mouth turned down—not sad, but a little sheepish. “It shouldn’t be. I have so much to do. But at the same time it feels like there is nothing to do.”
“Nothing you want to do,” he said.
“Something like that.” She inched up a little on the pillow to look at him. “I want to set up our household. I think it will give me great joy. But that’s not Scotsby.”
“One more week,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
She nodded, closing her eyes as she slouched back down into the pillow. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“As do I,” he murmured. Although it had to be said, his bed was uncomfortable enough with only him sleeping in it. If she spent the night, neither of them would get any sleep. And not for the reasons he’d like.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked. Her eyes were closed; she looked almost unbearably content.
Unbearable because he was going to have to rouse her from her position momentarily.
He reached over to his nightstand and checked his pocket watch. “We’re going to need to leave soon,” he said. “You’re due back at the carriage in half an hour.”
She let out a groan. “I don’t want to go.”
He chuckled, giving her a nudge.
“What if I remain here?” she asked, one eye popping open. “I will be quiet as a church mouse. You can bring me food, and I’ll read your medical texts, and—”
“—and Mrs. McGreevey will likely have heart failure the next time she comes in to clean my room.”
“She does that?”
“Every other day.”
Now Georgie looked panicked. “Every other—”
“Not today,” he cut in.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She sat up, regrettably pulling the bedsheet up with her. “I was only joking about staying here, you know. Well, mostly only joking.”
He chucked her under the chin. “It would make me far more eager to return in the evenings.”
She rose from the bed to dress, facing his bookshelf as she pulled on her frock. She’d need help with the buttons, and he wondered how he’d make himself do them up when all he wanted was to kiss the tender skin on the nape of her neck.
“Don’t forget to get the book for me,” she said, oblivious to his hungry stare. “I don’t know which one you mean.”
“It’s the green one, all the way to the left,” he said, “but I’ll get it for you.” It still seemed strange to him that she’d want to read it, except … when he actually thought of it, it wasn’t strange at all.
He’d never have thought that anyone not involved in medicine would wish to read such a thick text.
But not Georgie. For her, it made sense. Nicholas wondered if there were any medical schools that accepted women. He had a feeling his wife would be an excellent student.
They finished dressing and made it out of the boardinghouse undetected. It was a warm day for Edinburgh, and the stroll to the carriage was most pleasant. Nicholas had one arm looped through Georgie’s, and the other holding the thick textbook . They chattered about nothing of importance; they didn’t need to. The air was bright and warm, and they were so comfortable and happy to be in one another’s presence, that there was no urge to fill the silence with anything profound.
The carriage was waiting at the edge of Old Town, in a relatively quiet square. Jameson and the driver were sitting on the seat, sharing a loaf of bread, and it looked like Georgie’s maid was waiting inside.
“There you are,” the maid said, poking her head out when they approached. “It’s getting late.”
It wasn’t, but Nicholas saw no reason to point that out. He waited for Marian to go back into the carriage, and then gave Georgie a boost.
But when she ducked her head to enter, he did not release her hand.
“Nicholas?” she said, gazing down at him with an expression of gentle amusement.
He looked at her. At her face, which was so familiar to him. Or rather, it had been familiar. Somehow it had become new. Her eyes were the same, blue, merry, but not quite as bright as his own. Her nose—it was the same nose she’d always